


Feathers

by Buttons15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Creepy, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:26:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: Deep down, Angela considered herself an artist, and what artist didn't enjoy a work well done?For Gency week 2017





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamerInSilico](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamerInSilico/gifts), [bzarcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/gifts).



> Special thanks to Archer and Dae for helping me out with this one!

Angela folded the letter neatly in four, text-side facing in, and placed it in the same metal box she had left all previous others. They were building into a pile and she reckoned she’d soon have to swap the container for something larger - a shoebox, perhaps.

She rolled the sparrow feather that came with it between her thumb and middle fingers. There was one for every letter – Genji was methodical about it, not unlike herself.  They had a lot in common, really, which was not surprising. She was responsible for a lot of what he was, after all. Placing it down on the desk, she picked up a pen instead.

 _“Dear Genji_ ,” she wrote with practiced ease and little thought. “ _It always brings me a smile to hear from you.”_

She wasn’t smiling.

_“Please excuse my late response; things have been hectic and mail often does not reach me. Getting your letters brighten my day, and I’m glad to hear you feel whole again. Zenyatta sounds like an interesting person, one I’d love to meet.”_

Angela absently put the pen down and clicked a couple pages open on her computer. She browsed for a while, scanning over pictures of acquaintances and funny videos of cats. Sighing, she opened a tab on Google and typed in _“Japanese honorifics”_.  The first result was from Wikipedia, as per usual, and she skimmed over it.

Genji had always called her “ _hakase_ ”, which apparently was used for people with high academic expertise. It suited her, she supposed, but on the last latter he had switched it to “ _san_ ” and even though her Japanese was sketchy at best, she knew it wasn’t an idle change. She rolled the web page down, and then scratched out the greeting on her letter.

_“ ~~Dear Genji~~ Genji-kun,”_

She read it over, resisting the urge to cringe at the greeting.

_Makes me sound like one of his little anime whores._

 The blonde considered starting over on a new paper, then decided against it. The ink blot made her uncertainty look much more authentic than it really was. She penned a couple paragraphs on how things had been for her – lots of work, a couple interesting patients, a complication now and then.

“ _Your body development interests me greatly,_ ” she wrote with undisguised curiosity. “ _I knew you would be stronger than a normal man, but knowing you can lift that much weight is still amazing! What else can you do, I wonder? How fast can you run and how tall can you jump?_ ”

Angela ran that sentence through her mind, wondering whether it felt too much like a scientific experiment pop quiz. “ _I didn’t expect you’d become a super hero,_ ” she added, and that made it sound better. She closed it up with a paragraph on how she couldn’t wait to see him again, then scribbled the address on the envelope and placed it on the “to-send” pile.

She tossed the feather on the waste bin on her way out of the office.

_Gets on my allergies._

 

* * *

 

He sat on the edge of the stretcher in her lab, perfectly still while she examined the state of his prosthetics. There was much to take note, and Angela went through every single detail, inspecting him from head to toe. It must have taken her over an hour; when she was done, she turned to see his expression particularly content.

“I am honored that you’d grant me such a thorough examination, doctor Ziegler,” he didn’t meet her eyes, but his lips were quirked in a lazy smirk. “You must have a busy schedule.”

 _Arrogant,_ she thought with a smile, for it was yet another trait they shared. It was incredibly cocky of him to mistake her purely scientific interest for something else, but she figured not even years of monk-Omnic blabbering could get rid of something so ingrained.

She met his eyes, arched an eyebrow. She could see in his expression the admiration – one she’d grown familiar with after so many lives she’d ripped from death’s cold fingers. If he loved her, that would be no surprise. She could see in his dilated pupils his desire, and that, too, was none less than the expected.

She stepped closer. His mask had been removed, and she traced a single finger over his jawline, her nails just long enough to scratch him. He was not, her analytical glance told her, a handsome man. He had been a player on his previous life, sure, but Angela would place his success on money and family name rather than looks. He was average at best, and she could easily say the metal and the wounds had made him ugly.

That was of little importance to her. What prompted her to lean closer, what moved her to run her fingers through his hair – _acrylic and polyester synthetic fibers,_ what pushed her to brush her skin over rough scar tissue – _perfectly closed with no keloid, a fine job by yours truly_ , was rather the desire to taste the fruit of her work.

If Gabriel was the Frankenstein’s Monster to her impeccable career, then Genji was her _Galatea –_ a masterpiece come to life. That he looked more like a Picasso than a sculpture of classical art only made her craft more original. She felt him react when their lips met, and she could all but visualize the impulses of pleasure traveling the neural networks she had weaved with the very hands that now activated them.

Mercy often wondered what a teammate or other would be like in bed. With Genji, though, it was less about creativity and more about calculations and predictions – she had built it herself, and that left little room for imagination. Sadly for him, she was both fond of a challenge and quick to bore. She broke their kiss apart almost as soon as it had begun.

He looked at her, murky green eyes wide, breathing ragged. It wasn’t within expected behavior that he would make a move on her then, yet she gave him the benefit of doubt, lingering close for a split second longer than necessary.  

She was disappointed when he did nothing. Disappointed, but not surprised.

“The feather,” he said, plucking it out of her hair. It had been attached to his last letter, as per usual, the one in which they appointed to meet. He eyed it for a second before delicately placing it back over her ear. “You kept it.”

Her communicator beeped, and with a glimpse she saw the data on _intense emotional stimuli on a heavily cybered specimen_ had been received and processed. She had it transferred to her main computer with a flick of her wrist and turned to Genji.

“Of course I did.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she doubted he’d be able to tell. “I’ve kept them all.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *bursts into the room, kicking the door* AND ANOTHER THING - if you think that between the playboy and the woman who cured death _she's_ the frail emotional link of the relationship then hoooo boy - 
> 
> ...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I promise I'm never writing Gency again.


End file.
